


His Fight

by Caramiela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Hallucinating Sam Winchester, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), M/M, Post-Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Remembers Lucifer's Cage, Sam Winchester in Lucifer's Cage, Season/Series 13, Season/Series 15, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caramiela/pseuds/Caramiela
Summary: Who do you pray to, when your personal God is dead but still very angry at you?Old habits and fears die hard, and sometimes traumatic memories can be very persistent.After his failed confrontation with Chuck, Sam discovers that God's wrath can shatter walls between worlds. And he might not always like the outcome.Hurt Sam, obviously. Lot's of hurt Sam.Non-con Sam/Lucifer, and Sam/Jack as the father-son relationship that was forgotten by the show. Hallucinations (or not, who knows), BM scenes between brothers - in one word, ENJOY! :>
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Comments: 17
Kudos: 84





	His Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Finally I'm posting first chapter of my Sam-centered story. Right on his birthday! Sorry, Sam...^^  
> Lots of hurt but brave Sam, who is once again questioning his reality (this is what all of us want, let's admit it :D).  
> Some very spicy parts, some very sad, moving conversations between Sam and Dean and some very evil Lucifer. 
> 
> ENJOY :D 
> 
> (And please feel free to correct any mistakes I might have done, I'm non-English speaker).
> 
> Special dedication to Kylermalloy who was great support while writing this chapter and corrected a lot of my mistakes and to my friend Evelyn whose enthusiasm kept me going :D Thank you very much for both of you:)

# His fight

### I. Haunted

On the first day after Jack’s death Sam woke up to the overwhelming feelings of dread and bone-deep cold – both terribly familiar sensations to him, once so inherent to his existence, that it took a few seconds before he even realised it was there. 

Before that happened, he was blessed with few seconds of peace – still half asleep, he was just laying there, not thinking about anything and feeling absolute bliss, half aware of Jack’s laugh coming from afar.

At this very moment, in this very second, one thought crossed his mind –  _ this is what I always wanted _ – when a sudden violent shiver tore through his whole body and just... stayed there. He had a feeling it was immediately absorbed by his very DNA. It felt so mundane, like it was always an integral part of him – he could not understand how he was able to ever forget it was there in the first place.

“Sam” – he suddenly heard Jack’s voice in his ear, so loudly that he turned his head out of instinct to look at him. 

He stared for some time at the perfectly organised space of his bedroom – empty and dark, except for a narrow square of light coming from the corridor. Then awareness returned and all memories of previous days started to flood his mind. 

Jack killed their mom. Chuck killed Jack. Sam tried to kill Chuck – and as most of his plans in life, it obviously backfired, this time literally – he shouldn’t really be surprised at this point. 

_ Sam Winchester, this is your life.  _ He could almost hear Lucifer laughing somewhere in the darkness – or maybe it was his own laughter. Sam never knew anymore. 

Still deep in his thoughts, he slowly touched bullet wound his failed murder attempt left on his body. Sam had the strange feeling that the numbness and freezing cold he felt radiated from there.  _ No exit wound _ , Dean said. Whatever was the power able to kill Nephilim, probably God himself – it was now buried deep in his body. Just another ingredient to add to the Supernatural Molotov Cocktail, formerly known as Sam Winchester, ready to go off any second and consume the rest of his shredded soul. 

_Take a few gallons of demon blood, the same amount of Satan’s cum, a tablespoon of angel grace and cup each of insanity, despair and guilt. Mix it together and roast slowly in Hell Fire until your boy toy Boyking is ready to play with – approximately two hundred years (Hell time)._

He could almost hear the ticking noise, counting the seconds that left of his humanity. For so long now, he’d felt like he was less of himself with every passing day. 

“Sam?” – this time it was Dean, Sam saw his dark outline on the floor, heard him banging on the door. “Are you up? There are pancakes in the kitchen. Better hurry up before Adrian Mole from Hell will eat everything.”

_ I can’t even look at you right now _ , Sam was about to say. All he wanted to do was to stay in this room forever. He could not bear to see Dean, useless Castiel, and especially not the thing that used to be his son. The son he failed to protect. 

But the universe was still ending, so he dressed without word and went straight to the kitchen. 

Another shudder went through his spine and he almost fled back to his room at the sight of an animated corpse in the shades. But the universe was still ending, so he took his spot next to Dean who was already dishing out a stack of pancakes on his plate. 

“Eat, Sammy. You look terrible. How’s your arm?”

“You tried to kill him. Don’t you ever speak to me again,” Sam answered. Meant to answer. 

But the words seemed to vanish on his tongue. These days he had a weird feeling that whoever wrote their story line, was deliberately stealing his voice, making his character mute. A background, passive silhouette in his own life story. 

“Whoever”... A dark, humourless chuckle left his mouth. He knew exactly who it was. 

_ Well, fuck you very much, Chuck. _

“Sam? Are you all right?” 

He kept his eyes fixed on the pile of steaming pancakes, trying to concentrate on pouring maple syrup on top of it. His hand shook slightly from anger, syrup staining the table counter. He cursed silently and put the bottle back on the table, with more force than was required.

“I’m fine” – he declared, still refusing to look at anyone present, but it was clear that Dean saw straight through it. Second later Sam felt his hand cupping his face, gently forcing him to raise it and look at him. 

_ Don’t you fucking dare to lower your head, do you hear me, bitch? I want to see your face when I come in you. And don’t bother to try and hold back that moan. I know exactly what you feel, what you need, what you deserve. And don’t fool yourself, Sammy, God knows that too.  _

“You don’t look fine, bro” – Sam blinked, Lucifer’s face morphed back to Dean’s worried features. He didn’t know what to say.

“We don’t even have a body to burn” – he murmured eventually, looking from the corner of the eye at the blond boy sitting by his side. 

“Exactly! Get out of him, I told you...” – Castiel exclaimed, but Jack –  _ not Jack, Belphagor, some stupid demon wearing his face  _ – interrupted him with irritation: 

“What’s your problem with this body, guys? You were going to bury it or burn it anyway. Seems to me like a huge waste – didn’t you hear that recycling is the thing now? Environmental friendly,  _ et cetera _ ? Especially that is it surprisingly good body. Doesn’t feel like it is decaying at all.”

Sam closed his eyes and pictured Jack’s face – his young, fresh, beautiful face – collapsing in itself over time, rotten skin peeling off, showing off the teeth, spiders forming cobwebs in burned eye sockets. 

He slowly chewed on the pieces of pancake, but instead of the sweetness of maple syrup he could only taste blood – he could actually feel its sticky, liquid texture on his tongue. 

He’s gonna be sick. 

He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t do it, play house and pancake mornings, pretending like everything is even slightly okay, waiting for the world outside these walls to start burning in the nearest future. He couldn’t do it but he had nowhere else to go. 

He didn’t even realise he stood up until he felt three pairs of eyes on him – two, two pairs of eyes, the third one melted in the flame of God’s envy and he will never see them again – but now, when he did, the only logical solution was to leave. 

“I... Need to go” – was all he said before retreating back to the safe space of his bedroom. 

Once he was inside, it seemed like he exhaled breath that he never knew he was holding. He knew that before long Dean would come looking for him – and for answers. Like another brother melodrama scene was about to make him feel less horrible. 

He turned on one of the twin lights on his nightstands and sat back on the bed. The space was lit with warm yellow light, but for some reason it couldn’t reach the dark corners of the room. He told himself that the impression of darkness pressing on him is merely a trick of his exhausted mind. After all, it never was a reliable source of information. At least not after... Not After. Not that he could recollect with every detail how it was working for him Before. It was too many years ago.

To distract himself from whatever was happening in his feverish mind, he grabbed empty glass from his nightstand. It was one of the most recent Jack’s inventions – to have them communicate through wall. He read it online, that by pressing glass to the wall it is possible to hear someone on the other side of the wall. It became their tradition of sorts – every night before sleep he could hear Jack banging twice on the wall, which was the signal to press glass to the wall and use it as a phone – all this to hear Jack’s muffled but clear “goodnight, Sam”. It was childish, and naive, but nothing gave him greater joy than answering Jack in the same manner, which always resulted in the boy’s laughter, so loud it was echoing in the corridor. 

With a shaking hand he pressed the vessel to the concrete and listened. 

For a few seconds he couldn’t hear anything – no voice, no laughter, no intro from  _ the Expanse _ , Jack’s newest obsession. Sam was hoping he could convince him to read all the books soon – he was concerned after noticing that boy is rarely reading anything not connected to the job. But right now he could only hear absolute silence, as if a thin layer of concrete and bricks was dividing him from the emptiness of outer space. For a fraction of a second he remembered how lost he was when he was confronted with it for the first time and cold he felt intensified. Then, suddenly...

“Sam”.

Shocked, he let go of the glass, which rolled down on the pillow. This time he was sure he heard it, muffled, but a clear and familiar voice – just as he heard it every night for the last two weeks. 

“Hey... What are you doing?”

He turned around quickly, still kneeling on the bed, in order to face Dean standing in the doorway. His serious face wore a puzzled expression. 

“Come in and close the door” – Sam commanded and after they could no longer hear Castiel’s and Jack’s –  _ Belphagor’s _ – fighting loudly in the kitchen, he sat down on the bed and concentrated his sight on his feet on the ground. He could feel Dean taking place on his left side. 

“So...?” –it wasn’t hard to hear expectations in his brother’s voice. He let go a deep sight before he started:

“I think... I think his room is haunted” – he was angry at himself, because even to him he sounded like a little frightened boy, not an experienced hunter killing ghosts for a living. He couldn’t force himself to say Jack’s name, not to Dean. 

“What... what makes you say that?” – a long pause before this question was enough evidence that it wasn’t answer Dean’s expected.. 

“I heard him, twice now. And it’s freezing in here. It’s freezing everywhere. Can’t you feel it?”

Confused look Dean sent in his direction was enough of an answer. 

“Did... you check the EMF meter?” –Dean was already opening his nightstand’s drawer and recovering device. 

He turned it on. They listened to static noise for a while. 

“Okay... okay. Are you sure... I mean... Are you sure it’s not the Other Thing..?” 

“The  _ Other Thing _ ?” – the temperature of Sam’s voice suddenly was equal to the one in the room. He knew what Dean alluded to but he wanted him to say it. He waited, crossing arms. 

“You know...  _ Your _ Thing... I mean... It’s not like you didn’t hear voices that weren’t there in the past, right?” – he actually looked quite panicked about how to address this. 

_ Okay, Dean, no offence, but your brother is stupid and crazy. _ God has spoken.

“Well, I am, after all, stupid and crazy, right? Chuck said so himself so it must be the truth” – Sam tried to be ironic, but it only came out bitter. Even to the Grand Creator he was a joke. He was so, so tired of it. – “But I need you to trust me, okay? I know what I feel. And I can feel him here...” – he actually started to sound like he was about to cry (which was a big surprise to him), so he paused. 

“I don’t feel anything...”

Something in Sam broke. He let out a bitter, angry laugh. 

“Of course YOU don’t feel anything regarding Jack. You never did! Except for a strong urge to put a bullet in his skull the moment he was born!” – he tried to sound angry but it came out weak and trembling, and tears suddenly streaming from his eyes didn’t help at all. – “And for what? For being the son of Lucifer?! This was enough of a reason to want him dead?! Do you even know who Lucifer is? Who he was? Did you ever spent one fucking day in his company, knowing it’s only you and him forever?! And no one, NO ONE, will arrive to rescue you?!” – he was full on crying now.  _ Damn it _ . – “How can you hate Jack so much, when even I was able to love him...?”

Dean sat there for a moment, speechless after Sam’s unexpected outburst. Sam actually didn’t blame him. He had to get used to mute polite Sam, role Chuck wrote for him. Trying to get hold of his cry, he silently waited for Dean’s answer.

“I never heard you… you never spoke about  _ him _ before.” - his brother started eventually, with hesitation, as he was weighing each word in order to not trigger Sam anymore. “Not like that, at least”. 

“I know.”

“Honestly, I started believing that you were able to put all of  _ this _ … past you. At least I hoped you could do it”. - Sam could only let out dry, bitter laugh, full of resignation. Suddenly he felt very old, ancient almost. How many lifetimes he spent down there? 

“Of course I didn’t. Were you able to do it with your time in Hell?”

“No, of course not. But you never even try to talk about it, and that was always my coping mechanism, not yours. I figured you just organized all of that in this shaggy head of yours and you moved on. 

“Moved on… There is no moving on, Dean. It will never end.” 

“But it did end for you. Lucifer is finally dead. And you survived. I know that timing is not perfect, but maybe you should let this part of your life finally close behind you. And you know, finally live.” - Dean frowned his brow and suddenly touched Sam’s hand. His little brother looked at it with surprise. He had no idea he was pressing his thumb to scar on his palm. Apparently, old habits die hard. He tried not to think about other habits he acquired because of Lucifer. 

“Lucifer is not really dead, Dean.” - the whole passion that was fueling him just a few minutes ago evaporated, and now he felt only resigned apathy. - “He’s awake in the Empty. At least that’s what Nick said. He said he was able to talk to him and there is a way to bring him back.”

“What..? Why the fuck would Nick do that?!” - Sam felt relief, hearing that Dean is back in his angry mode. This, he could manage. But he hated to be treated like a broken china doll, that could start cracking at any moment.

_ Did you know, Sam, that human body literally cracks, while exposed to Space? You are all so fragile, whole human species. How could you ever consider yourself superior or even equal to me? You’re nothing, do you hear me? Just a cockroach, luckily for you you’re pretty enough not to die under my boot… Not permanently, at least. You could really make yourself useful. I have quite a lot of ideas, perfect for just a cock-roach as you.  _

“Well, apparently… He missed him” - Sam felt nauseous even thinking about it. - “He wanted Lucifer to come back and to possess him again.”

Dean sat there, speechless for a moment, and Sam knew he was thinking about Michael. He was determined to keep looking at the floor as long as it’s needed to give Dean time to compose himself. 

“This… This is so fucking sick, man. I can’t even think about anything to say right now… He  _ missed _ being possessed? I never heard about someone so wicked before”.

“You did.” - Sam’s answer was immediate, and he was surprised that he actually said it out loud. Dean looked at him, surprised.

“Geoffrey, remember? Young mailman turned serial killer? We exorcised him and then a few years later… He performed an elaborate plan just to reconnect with the demon who was possessing him.”

“Yeah, I remember that sick bastard… He killed poor Pluto and then tried to kill me. So what does it say to us? Both of them were some crazy motherfuckers.”

_ Okay, Dean, no offence, but your brother is stupid and crazy. _

Sam hesitated for a minute.

“I… I remember Michael, you know..? From the Cage.” - shocked look Dean sent him told him that Dean actually forgot that he was trapped there with both Archangels. - “He was always… Distant. He never wanted to bother himself with such a low lifeform like a human, you know..? Even when he was taking out his anger on me… It was like a chore to him. Like it was an unpleasant duty he had to perform. It doesn’t mean he didn’t cause me pain I never before experienced in my life… - Sam shuddered unwittingly and got lost in memory for a fraction of second, until he could hear Dean take a deep breath. -”But it was never too personal, you know? He left... Adam… practically alone.”

He stopped for a moment. Just thinking about their younger sibling he damned for eternity was too painful. He was surprised when he heard Dean speaking.

“Michael I knew was basically the same. He didn’t really bother with me after I said yes, most of the time he ignored my existence altogether. He mainly just put me to sleep inside my head”.

_ No sleep for you, Sammy. _

“Lucifer is different” - Sam heard himself saying. Then he stopped. Is this the moment? Was he really ready to talk about him to Dean?

His brother sat there, silent, not moving even single muscle, and waited. Sam found himself wondering if he’s holding his breath, like one might do in the presence of a feral animal. He sighed. 

“He’s always looking for a chance to engage, you know? He talks, and talks, and you hate it, you just want to block him out, but you can’t. He’s part of you. So you try to ignore him. And sometimes your ignorance costs you a lot, depending on his mood. And at first, you’re even ready to pay the price, even if it means you can forget how it is to live life without pain. But then, with time, you realize. There won’t be any dreams you can get lost in, while he’s in charge of you. No bars, no beautiful chicks, he’s too possessive to share you even with someone imaginary. It’s only you and him. It doesn’t even matter if the prison is in the deepest pit of Hell, or in your own head, because the inevitable outcome is the same. Eventually, you start to listen, you start to answer him. Because the alternative is… just nothing. This kind of emptiness that really draws you into, well, madness, to the point when you’re finally ready to beg for his attention. And when you get it, you can’t help but feel some sort of relief, or gratitude. He’s not your saviour, you want to remember that. He’s more of your prison guard or very annoying cellmate. But in the end, he’s the only thing you have left. You know that your very existence depends on how well you get along with his rules, how interesting you seem to him. Because one of the things he hates the most? Boredom. When he’s bored, that’s when he gets really creative. And he gets bored extremely easily, like a very spoiled child…Well, he is one as the matter of fact. Spoiled, cruel, unsupervised child with one big, scary gun pressed to your head and the other one between his legs.’ - another bitter, sad chuckle left his mouth. 

Dean’s fingers on his hand suddenly tightened their hold painfully. Sam looked at him puzzled.

His brother’s face was white, his eyes round and shining, and he wore a haunted expression Sam never saw before. He was staring at him for few long seconds, before asking with shaking voice:

‘Sam…  _ What are you saying..? _ ’

‘I mean, his only constant interests could boil down to murder, torture and sex. You could even call it ironic, actually. He is celestial being, despising humans and looking down at us, calling us animals, but at the end of the day he  _ loves  _ having human form and indulging in pleasures that comes with it. I think that deep down he envies us that we have it all for granted, and his denial only deepens his hate and frustration.’

‘Sex..? You had sex with  _ Lucifer _ ?’- Sam was mortified, hearing shock in his brother’s voice. 

_ Fuck.  _

How come he didn’t know..?

_ You had sex with Lucifer? You whore, you bitch, you Satan’s pet, did he make you get down on your knees for him? Did he make you pray to him?  _

‘He did.’ - he finally answered, whispering. And he realised that Dean didn’t really ask the last few questions, but it didn’t really matter. Even if he was kind enough to not say them out loud, he had to think them. - ‘ _ He _ had sex with me, not the other way around. He called it sex, I didn’t… I would never… It.. it wasn’t... ’ - He was feeling blinding panic. It was the moment he feared forever. Sam was still keeping his glaze on the ground. He could not bear to face his brother's judgmental look. ‘ I thought you always knew. How did you not know?’.

He felt Dean’s hands grabbing his arms and forcefully turning him to face him. He closed his eyes with resignation, expecting spit or slap in the face, but instead he was pulled to Dean’s chest and he felt his strong embrace. Just like when he was a little kid and Dean tried to protect him from every monster in the world. 

How ironic.

After a few seconds they both cried. 

‘Sam… I had no idea… You never told me… Although probably you shouldn’t have to, it should be obvious to me, seeing how obsessed he was with you from the very beginning’ - Sam felt Dean’s tears sinking in the back of his shirt. 

_ From the very beginning…  _

‘You know... When I met him for the first time, he came to my bed in the dream, wearing Jessica’s face. I kissed her… him. I didn’t know...’

Dean’s arms were enclosing him now so tightly that he could hardly breathe. 

‘This sick motherfucker!’ - He was back to his familiar aggressive self, which was a relief, but anger didn’t stop his tears from falling. - ‘This fucking bastard, he’s lucky I already killed him! How could he even do that… I mean, angels are junkless, we know that for years...’

‘Well… I know for years that he isn’t… And don’t act so surprised. How did you think he got Kelly pregnant?’

Dean went silent for a moment. 

‘Immaculate Conception..?’, he suggested eventually. Sam snorted.

‘He would never pass on the chance to thrust his dick into someone. Trust me’.

He eventually broke free from his brother’s arms and curled, hugging his own knees, with his back pressed to the wall. 

‘Or maybe you’re right and it really is just me. Well, my body. It was created for him, after all… And I dared to fight him over it... and win.’

‘Sam… Don’t you ever think you’re his property...’ - his brother tried to reason with him but it came out weak.

Even Dean knew. Deep down, he knew.

‘Why not? He told me himself. I was created to be owned by him, and you know it’s true… I could defy him, I think he even found it enjoyable at some point, but I could never be equal to him. After the fall… I understood. Trust me, I understood. I was so stupid and cocky before, because I never realized what he really was to me. But in the Cage I saw him, stripped from the human vessel. And for the first time it became clear.’

‘What became clear..?’ - Dean seemed to be spooked by the possible answer.

‘Don’t you get it yet? He’s my God’.

_ The only God who would ever care for me. _


End file.
